Preface: M's job is a way of life (for both of us). If you didn't catch it, he's a firefighter. He comes from a long line of firefighters and he absolutely LOVES his job. And he's good at it. I mean, I've obviously never been in the midst of a fire with him, but I've heard the way the other guys in his firehouse talk about him, and I hear him talk about his experiences. And I know him. I can't really explain how I know exactly, but if you met M, you would know too. He's just a solid, good-hearted man who is the epitomy of "protection" and "I know what the eff I'm doing". I believe it's the same qualities that made me fall in love with him. He's just...the best. (Aaaannd I'm crying already). His firehouse buddies are our second family. Their wives are my friends. Their kids will be our kids' friends. We don't get to see eachother often b/c we are scattered about NY, but when we see eachother, it's a wonderful reunion. Without the firehouse, M wouldn't be the person he is...neither would I. It's just a special bond and way of life that only those of us lucky enough to live it truly understand.
The story begins a little less than two years ago. Without going into any specifics, there was an incident at work and M got hurt. It was his hip. He knew that it was more than just a pull of a muscle, and he was in pain. He was officially out of work on medical leave and started going through the process of finding out what was wrong. Upon seeing the fire dept. doctors, he had some scans done that showed no tears, no inflammation, etc. But he was still in pain. The fire dept doctors kept pushing him to go back to work, but he knew something was wrong, so he pushed back. He had a few more tests done - all came back negative for an injury. Some time passed and M started feeling like he was crazy. He's a good guy, and always does the right thing. He was a little upset that the fire dept doctors didn't seem to care that he was still in pain (nor did they seem to care to do any more tests to find out). But, he felt obligated to do as he was told and he eventually went back to full duty, back into the firehouse. In pain. But he did it. That was Summer 2010 into that fall. Might as well add that our little Goose arrived not long after M went back to work. Luckily, we had planned ahead and M took his vacation time right at the start of Goose's debut. It was during this time, spending 24-7 over the course of several weeks that I noticed M would twinge in pain every time he stood up or turned quick, rocked the baby and a few other times. We talked about him going back to the fire dept doctors, but he knew that without a scan or test telling them something was wrong, they'd just say the same thing - "go back to work". M's already suffered a pretty bad tear in his shoulder, and lives with the pain from that (it wasn't bad enough for surgery). He just figured it was either a similar thing, or it was severe tendonitis. All of which, in his mind, didn't warrant going out of work again.
Until the Spring/Summer of 2011. Another incident at work. This time, it was bad. He had trouble walking, he couldn't get up from sitting without his legs buckling from pain. And he certainly couldn't carry our moose of a child who was ranging around 23 - 25lbs at the time. His daily life was completely changed. This time around, when he saw the fire dept doctors, he insisted on getting more tests, and perhaps seeing an outside doctor/specialist. And that's when his course took a turn. It was with the new doctor, looking at new tests and old tests from the previous year that it was discovered that he DID have a tear. In his hip tissue. It was there all along, gone unseen. It was small when it was undetected, but now that he had been working and walking on it for about year, the damage was severe. Not only had the labrum (hip socket tissue) worn down and been destroyed, but his femural head and socket (the leg and hip bones) had been grinding against eachother. The only solution was surgery.
That was the surgery I mentioned in this post. It sucked. Let me just
That was July 2011. Here we are, March 2012. I don't think I need to explain...his last surgery was unsuccessful. So, what does that mean? It means the surgery that M is having in just three days is for a hip replacement. I know moods don't always translate in type (or at least I'm not a good enough writer to do so), so let me write it out: we're sad. A hip replacement is a career ender for M. He cannot be a fireman with an artificial hip. It's just the rules. Ironic that he'd be in better shape than he was nearly two years ago when they were pushing him back to work, but that's just the deal. Shitty deal, but it is what it is.
Now, I know that his might not seem like such a huge deal and there are FAR worse things that can happen in life (trust, I've learned that in the past few months if not before) than being forced out of a job you love. But right now, it's just sad. M is trying not to show it or talk about it, but he's pretty devastated. I think he feels like a part of the person he is, is being taken from him. Our way of life, our friends...it's all going to change. The firehouse is his second home and family, and he had plans to stay there until he was an old man (I'm not kidding, his dad just retired 2 months ago). He feels like he's losing so much of what he loved about his life, and it's all against his choice.
I won't go into the anger we have for the doctors' unwillingness to initially find out what was wrong, and how the tear went unnoticed. We are angry, but at the same time...nothing can be changed. So we've accepted it. It's hard. But it's not something that we can't turn into good.
The sad part will be Monday morning, just before M goes in. He'll know that once the surgery is done, it's official - he'll never go back.
But the good part will start as soon as he wakes up. He'll start his recovery. After a few weeks he'll be able to walk normal. After a few months he'll be able to rock the Goose completely to sleep for the first time, ever. He'll run around and play with his son like he was never able to before.
He'll sleep through the night for the first time in nearly two years, not waking up because of pain. He'll be able to excercise again and simultaneously gain his sanity back.
And over the course of some months, maybe longer, he'll find something new to love. It will never be the love, or the way of life we found with the fire department. But he will love it, and he will be good at it. I just know.
We are lucky. I know that some of this post is a little gloom and doom for something as simple as loosing a job, and I might sound a little ridiculous at points. But it's just the truth. It's how we feel. We will get through it and look back and realize it was for the better. Life is like that. It's sad, but not devastating. We will keep and cherish those relationships and people that were apart of that life. It will always be apart of us, it will always be apart of him. But we will make lemonade. It might take a little while, and we will struggle. But it's all going to be okay.
And M will officially be my old man, fake hip and all. And I will love my old man, more than ever.
Not that I post here regularly, but I'll most likely be MIA next week, probably two. Or I might stalk this place when I need an outlet. Who knows. Wish M luck!
